


An Imagined Reunion

by panpinecone



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Childhood Memories, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest Play, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 02:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18929737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpinecone/pseuds/panpinecone
Summary: Laurent has some unexpected regrets. Damen helps him come to terms with them.





	An Imagined Reunion

“I said I never fucked my brother. I didn't say I never wanted to.”

There was a pause.

“What?” Damen asked.

Laurent sighed and closed his eyes, a resolute crease forming on his forehead. “Not when he was still alive, but after. After the grieving, and after my uncle. Once enough time had passed that I began to know desire.”

Damen listened intently, mind sluggish as it tried to make sense of Laurent’s words.

“It took a few years. My uncle’s habits certainly slowed the process down. But eventually, my thoughts were fully my own, my _fantasies_ were fully my own, and for a long time... My fantasies were of rescue.” Laurent emitted a quiet, sad chuckle. “I fantasized about Auguste surviving, coming back, saving me from all that had transpired in his absence. Or better yet, his absence never having occurred at all. They were simple fantasies, the naive yearnings of a boy forced to endure beyond his capabilities. Heartfelt reunions, games, banter. It was nice.”

Damen remained still, fighting down the impulse to reach out to Laurent, wary of disturbing him while he reminisced.

“But then they changed,” said Laurent, turning his head and opening his eyes, looking straight at Damen. “They became... They became something else.”

“Laurent...”

“At first, I didn't know what to think. I enjoyed the scenarios far too much to blame it solely on my uncle’s influence.”

“That doesn't—”

“Doesn't what? Doesn't mean anything? Doesn't prove that those unnatural thoughts came from somewhere within me? That they weren’t entirely attributable to my uncle?”

Damen hesitated, sensing how delicate the situation—how delicate _Laurent_ —was at that moment. “You can't deny his actions had an effect on you, one beyond the physical.”

Laurent pressed his lips together, cold eyes regarding Damen. For a time, neither of them said anything, simply watching each other.

Then Laurent said, “I was always too attached to Auguste.”

Damen stared at him.

“At the time, everyone found it endearing, a young princeling’s devotion to his older counterpart. I followed him everywhere I could, always interested in his activities. Once,” Laurent smiled, “I even asked him to marry me.”

“You did that?” Damen temporarily forgot the greater context of the anecdote. The thought of Laurent having at any point in his life done something so sweetly innocent was enough to put a matching smile on his face.

“I did. He said no, of course,” Laurent replied, his own smile fading.

“There was nothing strange about your actions. I remember trailing after Kastor in much the same way. And marriage proposals? It's hardly uncommon for children to issue them to members of their family. They don't know how to differentiate types of love yet. It’s innocent.”

Laurent watched him steadily, then turned his eyes to the ceiling. “I'm aware. But... What if it wasn't? If Auguste had lived, if my uncle hadn't—” Laurent paused, swallowing as he chose his next words. “What if I was always meant to be this way? Maybe it's even hereditary. My uncle was capable of it, why shouldn't I be too?”

“ _Laurent_ ,” said Damen, finally reaching out to clasp Laurent’s hands. “You are _nothing_ like your uncle. The few similarities I ever saw in you were a result of my own ignorance. You are kind and true where he was cruel and false, and if you've had unwanted thoughts about Auguste, it's no one’s fault but his.”

“But...” Laurent licked his lips. “I haven't.”

Damen gave him a questioning look.

“I haven't had unwanted thoughts.”

The two of them watched each other, both shocked into silence by the admission.

“That is,” said Laurent, voice wavering and unsure, “I don't reject them. I sometimes even welcome them. I... I told you, I _enjoy_ them.”

Damen didn't know what to make of that. Laurent looked so hesitant, so vulnerable. His eyes were unblinking, fixed on Damen, seeking approval.

No, _acceptance_.

But it didn’t make sense. Time and time again, Laurent had denied accusations of incest, whether as factual or merely something he’d been inclined to. No proof had ever accompanied those accusations either.

A forgotten conversation echoed in Damen’s ears and he cleared his throat. “You said it wasn’t true. That the taint in your family didn’t extend to the two of you.”

Laurent frowned slightly, then his eyebrows rose. “You remember that.” He sounded surprised. “Though not that well. I recall saying that Auguste was free of the taint. Auguste. I never mentioned myself.”

It was Damen’s turn to frown. Laurent was right, his exact words had only absolved Auguste of the accusations.

“Do you see now? I’ve lusted after my own brother, just as I would have done if he’d survived Marlas.” Laurent pressed his lips together and then, so quietly that Damen strained to hear it, said, “If anything good came of his death, let it be that he never had to know.”

Damen felt his heart break at Laurent’s attempt to console himself. His hold on Laurent’s hands tightened and he brought them to his face, pressing his lips across the knuckles.

“Damen...”

“I can’t convince you. In time, you may come to see that you’re not at fault. You were never at fault. But until then, know that you hold no blame in my eyes. I love and treasure you as sincerely as I did before, and I’m grateful you’ve confided in me.”

Laurent swallowed again, eyes bright, and moved forward, body coming to a stop against Damen’s. They lay there, no more said between the two of them for a long time. Then Laurent, tentatively, said, “I would like to pretend, just once. To see how it feels, if it's as I’d imagined or simply an ugly reality I've been warped into desiring.”

He pulled back and his eyes met Damen’s.

“Would you help me?”

 

* * *

 

Over the next several weeks, it became clear that Laurent’s confession had fundamentally altered their relationship. There was little outward change, but the air between them was different. Laurent seemed happier, like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and his happiness resulted in Damen’s own happiness. They received various remarks stating that they seemed more unified than ever before.

It felt strange to accept the praise when Damen knew its true origin would be seen as less than laudable.

Every few nights, they broached the subject again, planning out various details. Laurent gave the impression of already knowing how best to enact what he wanted, for which Damen was grateful. He wouldn’t have had the faintest idea of where to begin.

“Don’t worry, you won’t even have to talk,” said Laurent, as though the idea of silently fucking him while he pictured Auguste was nothing for Damen to worry about.

Despite the discussions, Damen felt no closer to understanding how any of it would benefit Laurent. A wordless fuck, some gentle caresses. The only truly significant detail was that of Laurent’s imagination, but he could make use of that whenever he wished.

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Laurent. “The blindfold should ensure I don't open my eyes and spoil the illusion.”

They used the blindfold rarely enough that the prospect of it had Damen’s pulse quickening, regardless of his confusion over the rest of the plan. That was likely why Laurent had suggested it at all, since Damen knew he had no problem keeping his eyes closed when he wanted to.

At last, there came an afternoon where Laurent strode up, brought his lips right to Damen’s ear, and whispered, “ _Tonight_.”

It was enough to render Damen useless the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

Damen entered their rooms to find Laurent sitting at his desk, blindfold already in place. Its coloring was enough to designate him as part of the Akielon royal family, and though it was far from the first time Laurent had worn the red strip of cloth, repetition did nothing to lessen Damen’s reaction to it.

The image Laurent presented—fully clothed, back straight, and illuminated only by candlelight—had Damen striding forward, eager to enact the rest of the plan. His footsteps were loud in the quiet, but Laurent kept himself frozen in place. Damen knew anticipation must be coursing through his body, and found his restraint admirable, even if it was part of the fantasy.

Circling the desk, Damen came to a stop behind Laurent and took a breath. It was time to act, just like he’d been asked to.

He placed his hands on Laurent’s shoulders and immediately felt them tense beneath his grip. A few gentle squeezes had the muscles relaxing with an accompanying sigh. Slowly, Damen brought his chin down onto Laurent’s head. The action was casual in a manner he seldom was. His displays of affection tended to err on the side of careful and considerate, whereas the one he was currently engaging in was more akin to a show of playfulness.

Akin to an older brother greeting a younger.

His heartbeat quickened at the thought.

Laurent wanted it. They had discussed the scenario extensively, and there could be no doubt that he wanted it. Damen wanted to provide it. He knew he could.

His hands slid down, settling on Laurent’s upper arms. He pressed the side of his face to Laurent’s head, giving him an awkward hug of the sort one would give a busy friend in passing, without the need for them to leave their seat.

One of Laurent’s hands rose to lay atop Damen’s.

He lightly nuzzled at Laurent’s hair, still within the boundaries of playful interaction, if only just barely. Laurent tilted his head into it and grasped at Damen’s hand more firmly. The energy fuelling their actions shifted, pushing them towards different territory. It was territory they were well acquainted with, but never with the ghost of Auguste so present.

Damen reluctantly straightened, laying his free hand beside Laurent’s neck, hoping its weight would be a comfort. Laurent tilted his head back, as if seeking Damen’s eyes despite his blindfold.

No, not Damen’s. Aug—

“Auguste...”

Damen’s breath caught in his throat and he squeezed Laurent’s arm in answer. Laurent squeezed his hand in turn. There was a pause where neither of them did anything more, then Damen’s other hand crept up Laurent’s neck, fingers coming to a stop on his throat.

Laurent continued looking towards Damen, blindfold rendering the effort useless.

“Auguste,” he said again.

Damen felt the vibration of the name where his fingers rested against Laurent’s throat. It was more intimate than he had expected it to be, and he gave the skin a light caress.

Laurent let out an abrupt giggle and jerked away, into the hand at his side.

There were very few places where Laurent was ticklish, so Damen was delighted to have discovered another. He swiped at the column of Laurent’s throat again, smitten with the way Laurent jumped in his hold and poorly suppressed a laugh. Again, a swipe, and again, a jerk and a stilted noise.

“Auguste, don’t tease!”

Yes, Damen was Auguste, and as Laurent’s older brother, it was his sworn duty to keep teasing Laurent at all costs.

Damen followed Laurent’s throat, his fingers flitting across it, reveling in the way Laurent squirmed and giggled, abandoning the attempt to muffle his laughter. The chair rocked with Laurent’s movements and Damen doubled his efforts until the whole thing seemed dangerously close to toppling over, then wound his arms around Laurent’s shoulders and held him tight.

Laurent quieted in his grip. Damen nosed at the blindfold, careful not to push it out of place. One of his hands slid down Laurent’s front, lingering on his chest, and Damen silently trailed his fingers back and forth in question.

He knew what Laurent wanted, but Auguste wouldn’t.

A moment passed, then Laurent tipped his head onto Damen’s shoulder, lips parting as he took in a shaky breath. He laid his hand atop Damen’s again, stilling it, and then, hesitantly, dragging it lower on his torso. Damen kept his hand where it was left, feeling the steady rhythm of Laurent’s breathing.

Laurent turned to him and said, “I’ve missed you so much.”

Damen knew he did, had known for so long, but never before had he so fully understood the extent of Laurent’s grief over the loss of his brother. Guilt threatened to eat away at Damen, and he forced himself to push it down and bury it deep. Guilt would accomplish nothing. Only that which he could accomplish was important, and there was something greatly important he could accomplish right then.

He pressed a brief kiss to Laurent’s forehead and watched in fascination as he leaned into it, straining after Damen’s retreating lips, his own lips almost imperceptibly pursing. Damen laid another kiss on the end of his nose. Laurent’s face tilted up, mouth falling open. Anyone could see what he wanted, and Damen wanted to give it to him.

But it didn’t feel right, not yet.

Damen unwrapped himself from around Laurent and made to step away, but was stopped by one of Laurent’s hands shooting out and taking his arm in an iron grip.

“ _Don’t leave me again_.”

Damen’s heart twisted at the childlike note in Laurent’s tone. It was a glimpse of what had occurred all those years ago, the state Laurent had been in when he’d been forced to endure his uncle’s attentions. Damen’s blood boiled, and he hoped Auguste’s would have done the same.

He bit back a soft assurance and took hold of Laurent once more, lightly tugging him from his chair and walking them towards the bed. Laurent’s steps were unsteady at first, but when Damen gave him a reassuring squeeze, they regained their confidence. It was plain to see that Laurent was placing all his trust in Damen, and Damen didn’t intend to betray it at any point, for even a moment.

Gently, he pushed Laurent to sit at the bed’s edge, then knelt down and turned his attention to Laurent’s boots. Damen smiled to himself. For as long as they had known each other, Laurent seemed to have a fixation for making others kiss his boot. Damen wondered when it had started. Would Auguste have known?

He took one slender calf in hand, the fingers of his other running down to the boot’s tip. Laurent’s breath hitched. Damen moved his fingers to caress Laurent’s ankle, massaging the joint and watching for a reaction.

After a long pause, Laurent’s straight-backed posture relaxed by the slightest increment. Satisfied, Damen worked the boot off and turned his focus to the other one. Again, he massaged the ankle within, watching Laurent begin to slump in place, then removed that boot as well, leaving both of Laurent’s feet bare.

Damen rested his palms on Laurent’s knees and contemplated his next move. He took in Laurent’s unguarded expression, and had no doubt that his eyes would be wide and expectant if Damen were to remove the blindfold. Idly, Damen ran his hands down, drawing them away as he went, until only the tips of his fingers were skimming along the arches of Laurent’s feet.

Laurent tensed.

Damen stopped.

Laurent’s breathing was even. Damen could find nothing in his appearance to indicate discomfort. Keeping his attention on Laurent, Damen resumed the stroke of his fingers.

Laurent tensed again, and Damen saw the repressed laughter for what it was. That they’d spent so long with Laurent’s ticklishness hidden was a wonder. His throat, his feet... Damen was eager to discover if any other areas on his body could bring forth those muffled laughs, but knew he would have plenty of time to explore on some other occasion.

Giving the arches of Laurent’s feet one last swipe and feeling a wave of adoration at the answering giggle, Damen shifted his focus to unlacing Laurent’s clothes. It was slow, methodical work, but lacked the anticipation that usually came with disrobing him.

Laurent smiled pleasantly, helpfully holding up one wrist and then the other, unseeing eyes following the direction of Damen’s movements. When Damen finished with the laces running up his arms, Laurent leaned back on his hands, presenting his chest without a shred of hesitance. Relaxed, unhurried.

Damen pulled at the laces, adjusting his position to reach them all, both those readily visible and those not. He didn’t think he would ever understand the Veretian fascination for laces.

Once he had Laurent’s top half stripped down to a comparatively simpler shirt, his hands started on the laces decorating Laurent’s lower half. Thankfully, there were less, but Damen still let himself take longer than he could have.

Laurent’s smile and posture were easy, the air between them familiar and free of expectations, and Damen wanted to savor it.

He’d just finished undoing the last of the laces when Laurent spoke again.

“Lie down with me?”

Damen nodded before remembering that Laurent had no way of seeing him. In spite of that, Laurent accommodated himself on the bed, leaving more than enough space for Damen.

Carefully, Damen slid onto the bed beside him, nearly reaching out before thinking better of it. Instead, he relegated his hands to a neutral position on his stomach, ready to move them elsewhere as needed. Laurent shifted closer until they shared the same pillow, and his smile alone spoke volumes.

“Do you remember how we used to lie awake at night, fighting off sleep for as long as we could?” Laurent asked. “I’d come to you after some foolish nightmare and you would welcome me with open arms, and once I set my fears aside, we would inevitably talk well into the night. You lavished me with grand retellings of your daily adventures, and sometimes I reciprocated by embellishing something that had happened to me that same day. But my adventures were never as fantastical as yours.”

Damen wished he could have seen Laurent’s past sooner, known the extent of his light-hearted temperament and love of adventurous tales.

Laurent lay one of his arms across Damen’s chest and moved closer still, forehead pressing against his cheek. “I miss that,” Laurent said, then nothing more, as though there was nothing more to say.

Damen supposed there wasn’t.

Fairly confident that it would be welcomed, he wrapped his arms around Laurent, and like he’d thought, Laurent let himself be held at Damen’s side. A small, happy noise left him, and for a time, all he did was nuzzle into the crook of Damen’s shoulder. The two of them lay together in silence, basking in a moment stitched together from old memories and undying regrets.

Laurent began running a hand over Damen’s torso, fingers splayed and searching. “After you were gone, everything changed,” he said. “Without you or father around, uncle changed. He started treating me differently, saying strange things, and I—”

He cut himself off, and Damen almost thought that was all he would say on the matter, but then he took a gasp of air and continued, “I thought that, if it had to happen, it should have been you.”

Damen couldn’t help the way his hold on Laurent tightened.

“I knew that you would have been gentle. You would have stopped before I cried out in pain, you would have made sure I enjoyed it, and... And you would never have done it in the first place. I thought all those things of you, anything to distract myself from the reality I faced, even though I knew those things would horrify and disgust you. I did a disservice to your memory by invoking it in a way I never should have, and I know you can never forgive me.”

Damen knew his hold must be hurting Laurent, but try as he might, his body refused to cooperate. He wished he could talk some sense into him, somehow make him see that none of what he blamed himself for was his fault. It was difficult, but Damen forced himself to take a breath and relax. If talking about the situation in such a manner was helping Laurent, then Damen would see to it that he talked however much he needed to.

Laurent strained to lift his upper half, closing in until he was nosing along Damen’s jaw. “I’m sorry,” he said, then caught Damen’s lips in a clumsy but heartfelt kiss. “Show me... Show me how it could be.”

Damen felt a pang of something run through him. Desire. Sorrow. Both. Neither. He remembered Laurent saying those same words to him so long ago. He wondered if Laurent was echoing them now, or if he’d been echoing them then.

As tenderly as he could, Damen cupped Laurent’s face and kissed him, swallowing his answering moan. The kiss deepened and Laurent’s hands clutched at Damen, like the idea of them ever parting physically pained him.

Damen pulled at their clothes with a single hand, but there was little he could do without wrenching himself from Laurent’s hold. Laurent didn't seem to have noticed Damen’s dilemma, focused entirely on kissing him amid keens and whines. The sounds were quiet, like the sounds that escaped him during sex always were, but there was a different quality to them as well.

Something distinctly desperate.

Again, Damen reminded himself not to speak. He forced himself to push Laurent away, ignore his saddened pleas, and finish removing their clothes. Already unlaced, Laurent’s were easy to pull off, and Damen quickly stripped before lying back down. Immediately, Laurent pressed their bodies flush together, tucking his head under Damen’s chin and letting out a satisfied sigh.

Damen lightly ran his hand over Laurent’s side, unsure of where in the plan they were. He knew Laurent wanted Damen to fuck him harder than he usually did, but he also knew Laurent wanted some measure of control over the situation, particularly at the start.

Were they past the start? Had they started at all? Damen had no idea.

Laurent abruptly sat up and pushed Damen onto his back. “I want to do this for you,” he said, then gripped Damen’s cock and began pumping it.

Damen wasn’t fast enough to stop the groan that escaped him, but Laurent’s lips quirked upwards triumphantly. His grip tightened and his pumps fell into a consistent pattern, but before Damen could grow accustomed to it, Laurent replaced his hand with his mouth. Damen barely held back another groan.

The blindfold brought out Laurent’s features, contrasting the hollow of his cheeks with the way they bulged around Damen’s thickness. Even with his eyes covered, Laurent’s concentration was evident, eyebrows furrowed and forehead creased. Damen clenched his hands and kept himself as still and silent as he could, watching Laurent repeatedly swallow down his cock.

Laurent never used his mouth so enthusiastically. The effect of it had Damen quickly approaching his climax, and to his horror, his hips thrust up of their own volition.

He opened his mouth to apologize, had nearly formed the words, when Laurent gave a low moan around his cock.

“Yes. _Yes_ , Auguste, fuck me. Fuck me so hard I forget you're gone.”

Damen’s apology died in his throat as he watched Laurent’s reddened lips shine and shimmer, hypnotic in the room’s candlelight.

“Please, I— I _need_ it. Please, Auguste.”

Damen found himself thankful for the blindfold; he didn’t think he could bear the sight of whatever expression accompanied Laurent’s broken tone.

Obediently, he reached for the nearby oil and coated his fingers in it, slicking himself and Laurent in turn. As rough as he allowed himself to be, Laurent seemed to want it rougher still, desperately pushing himself back on Damen’s fingers, and then, patience having run out, pulling away from them altogether to take Damen’s cock in hand and sink down onto it.

They let out twin moans of pleasure, Laurent’s louder than Damen’s, louder than his moans usually were. It sent an added jolt of pleasure through Damen.

“ _I miss you_ ,” said Laurent, breaking Damen’s heart all over again.

He gave an experimental thrust.

“Ah! Harder, Auguste. Fuck me harder.”

Damen brought his hands to Laurent’s hips, took a deep breath, then started thrusting upwards in earnest. He watched Laurent intently, ready to stop at a moment’s notice, but he needn’t have worried. Laurent’s only reaction was another moan, and when nothing more followed, Damen took it as a sign to renew his efforts. His thrusting sped up, forceful in a way he rarely was with Laurent, and in answer, Laurent rolled his hips on Damen’s cock as if his life depended upon it.

“A- Auguste... _More_.”

Damen dug his fingers into Laurent’s hips and Laurent clung to him as they rolled over. With their positions newly reversed, Damen paused to kiss Laurent, tenderly at first, then growing bolder. Laurent’s mouth opened around him and Damen brushed their tongues together, lips urgent. Laurent moaned again, directly into Damen’s mouth, and Damen felt it vibrate down his throat.

He readjusted his body against Laurent’s and began rocking his hips faster and faster. It was a much rougher pace than they’d ever used, barring those scarce moments before climax, and though Damen knew Laurent preferred slow lovemaking, he seemed to have no complaints right then. His arms and legs wound around Damen and he threw his head back, letting out a long, broken moan. It was so wholly unlike him, even at the heights of his passion, that Damen somehow found himself becoming more aroused.

His cock incessantly drove into Laurent, the force of his thrusts pushing the two of them along the bed. Laurent’s moans grew in intensity, and it was all Damen could do to keep fucking him through his peak. The sight and sound of it heightened Damen’s pleasure, until he too was spilling.

He pulled out and collapsed beside Laurent, watching his open-mouthed panting. Eventually, the movement of Laurent’s chest slowed, and he pushed himself up on an arm and turned to Damen. He leaned over, sweetly pressed their lips together, and said, “Farewell, my beloved Auguste.”

He tugged the blindfold off.

Damen stared at him as he blinked, refocusing his gaze after having been deprived of it for so long. Neither of them spoke.

“That was different,” said Damen, only to find Laurent’s fingers gently placed over his mouth.

Laurent’s eyes were wide. “I need it slow. Now.” He lifted one leg demonstratively and Damen rolled back onto him, slotting into place and reentering him.

They kissed, lips and tongues lingering. Damen’s mouth moved to Laurent’s neck, hands light on his sides, half-hard cock barely nudging back and forth. It was enough for Laurent, and after a moment, he came apart in Damen’s arms once more.

Damen looked down at him, taking in his newly heaving chest and blissful expression. His eyes shone with happiness.

“Was it good?” Damen asked.

“Yes. Very much so,” said Laurent, pressing another kiss to Damen’s lips. “Thank you.”

They stayed beside each other, exchanging soft kisses and gentle touches, and for a long time, that was all they did.

Then Laurent asked, “Damen?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think... That is... Could Auguste visit again sometime?”

Damen looked at Laurent. There was hesitance in his face, but also hope. Damen grasped one of his hands and pressed a kiss to its palm.

“I think so.”


End file.
